If Only It Happened This Way
by The Crimson Letter
Summary: A sweet oneshot between Tom and Hermione, the head students at Hogwarts. They retreat to their quiet common room after a stressful day and have a tense conversation followed by an affectionate moment.


The fire crackled comfortingly, illuminating a soft orange glow amidst the imposing shadows of the richly decorated common room. Exhaling in relief, Tom shrugged off his dark robes and sank onto the nearest couch. It was unlike him to leave his texts and scrolls unpacked, but he justified this neglect by viewing it as a reward for the restraint he had been forced to exercise earlier that day. Tom could hardly believe that the impudent fifth-year had dared to challenge his decision on the winter dance. Him, Tom Riddle, Head Boy of Hogwarts. If he hadn't been afraid of losing his position, he would have hexed that stupid boy for his insolence.

Tom glanced around the room leisurely, grimacing slightly at the jarring contrast between the golden drapes and the dark green upholstery. Although it was a relief to escape from the useless chatter and obsequious flattery of the young Slytherins, he did occasionally miss the dignified colour scheme of his former common room. As Tom pondered this interesting thought, he was disrupted by the very person responsible for the sacrifice of aestheticism.

Hermione Granger strode into the room, her wizarding robes and untamable locks billowing wildly. Muttering under her breath, she pointed her wand at the door, which immediately swung shut to block out the drafty air. Barely giving a glance to the boy lounging on the coach, she dropped her bag onto the table before pacing in agitation, occasionally causing sparks to flicker around the room.

"Is something the matter?" Tom inquired neutrally. Hermione whirled around to glare at him. "Of course not, I enjoy being upset for no reason whatsoever!" she snapped scathingly. Resuming her pacing, she ignored him for a few moments before dropping onto the couch beside him with a sigh. The two of them stared into the vibrant flames, the vestiges of her ire ringing between them.

Unnerved by the prolonged silence, Hermione glanced up at Tom before reaching over to grasp his hand tentatively. "It's just that the prefects refuse to pay attention at our meetings even though the dance is in two weeks and none of the preparations are ready. It's completely infuriating."

Suppressing the urge to form an indifferent expression, Tom turned around slowly. He had long learned that his facades had no effect on Hermione and that they would only lead to a lecture on the disadvantages of internalizing emotions. A mere month ago, he would have cursed her for such an outburst but he now found her passionate comments amusing. He could even tolerate the disrespect because it was a refreshing change from the combination of sycophantic admiration and palpable mistrust that he was all too familiar with.

"I nearly hexed a fifth-year today for being a presumptuous nuisance."

Hermione beamed at him, as though he had told her that he had helped to free a house-elf.

"You said nearly. So you didn't curse him!"

There was a flicker of uncertainty in Tom's eyes as he struggled to decide what to say. It still chafed that he had to let that boy go unpunished, but if he admitted this to Hermione, she would frown at him in that disapproving manner that somehow made him feel uncomfortable.

Still pondering his options, Tom was shocked to feel Hermione throw her arms around his shoulders, embracing him in a close hug. He tensed instinctively at the unexpected contact, but Hermione didn't seem to notice. Instead, she brushed his cheek with the tips of her fingers, gently nudging him to look at her before whispering that she was proud of him.

Tom was confused by the strange emotion he felt, but he decided he could analyze it later. Cautiously, he placed an arm around Hermione, returning her embrace. He noted with satisfaction that he must have done that right, since Hermione was smiling at him. He held her close, simply savoring the moment and the unique sensation.

"Hermione?" he asked quietly.

"Yes, Tom?" her voice was tinged with curiosity.

"For that dance…would you like to attend with me?"

He couldn't possibly be asking what she thought he was asking. She must be misunderstanding him.

"But we're already going together, since we have to open the dance as the Head Boy and Girl."

Tom was silent for a moment. "I'm asking if you would like to go _with _me. Isn't there a difference?"

After hesitating to confirm that she really did hear him correctly this time, Hermione hastened to respond.

"Oh yes, Tom. There most certainly is a difference, and I would be delighted to attend the dance with you."

Unknowingly breaking into a broad, genuine smile, Tom thought to himself that perhaps it wasn't such a pity that he wasn't able to curse that stupid boy.


End file.
